


Brumal

by LyraMoon22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, kind of a Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29640669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyraMoon22/pseuds/LyraMoon22
Summary: brumal - indicative of or occurring in the winter"Snow, snow snow, for fucking miles on end."Hermione Granger is wounded in the middle of a severe blizzard. With the cold wrapping around her mind and tightening her muscles into icicles, she believes she will die in the snow. That is, until someone she least expects arrives and carries her out of her blizzard-induced turmoil. Draco Malfoy.What develops between them is curt, but it is a needed solace for both of them in a time of war.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 14





	1. Selenite

**Author's Note:**

> This was a oneshot but I split it into 5 parts. Inspired by Tundra by Jeremy Soule which you can find on the playlist for this [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6dh4pKE1OvnldDKkl4hfbh?si=a7PNoH9fQVORap0Go1e0RA).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a oneshot that I split it into 5 parts. Inspired by Tundra by Jeremy Soule which you can find on the playlist for this [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6dh4pKE1OvnldDKkl4hfbh?si=Jqv-nHD8TryZC95rGxgCLA).
> 
> Take it or leave it! :)

Losing coordination, shallow breathing, a slow heart rate, then eventually death.

These are the four things Hermione knows can happen to her as she trudges through the dense snow.

More things could happen to her body of course, but this is what she focuses on. This is what Hermione feels beginning to take over her mind and body.

And yes, even death, that is a possibility as her legs grow weak and the wound gaping at her side is causing clean hands to become dirty with scarlet and black. Her fingers are growing weak and her mind is giving its headache, but that too is almost encased in snow and ice.

The first stage, which is shivering, has begun to take over her limbs. It started as something she could ignore but as the minutes passed, and all she could see was the same white-coated pine trees and blank white fields, she brought her attention to her body once again.

Her clothes are wet too, not just from the snow that melts into the weft of her cloak but also from the blood seeping out of the wound in her lumbar region, unpleasantly given to her by a wizard's wand who used a spell that can inflict the likes of a knife. 

_ "Simile Cultro!" _ the man had cackled before running off. She suspected he was neither a Death Eater nor an Order member, but instead enjoyed seeing the suffering of people who were passing through the dismal forest.

Then the blizzard had hit, just a flurry of snow and a howling wind before it swelled and roared into what it was now, flakes so large and fast you could see nothing but grey and white.

Now it was all a matter of continuing to walk. Fighting the strong urge of her mind and her limbs that begged its rest.

_ No. I can’t stop now. _ She would tell herself. She has to make it through this. Has to make it through this blizzard and complete the mission the Order has given her. 

Without the wound, a warming charm would be simple, she could go through this blizzard without feeling a lick of the burning cold, but she did have one, and her body was not faring well from the stress.

Hermione had read somewhere that the mind can begin to freeze. It almost panics, moving from thawing and freezing the body over and over. Maybe this was why she couldn't cast the warming or hot air charm right no matter how many times she tried. Her mind just couldn't focus, not with the cold feeling as though it was seeping into her neurons, frosting across her dendrites and axons and making everything fuzzy and confusing.

A trail of blood follows her, like the echoes of footsteps on a map.  _ Drip, drip drip. _

Her mind was fleeting to thoughts and feelings, anything she could grab onto to keep herself sane as she trudged onward. 

_ Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. _ Her boots sunk into the snow with each footstep.

Her foot catches on something and Hermione tumbles to the ground. Knees first then hands. Wand falling from her stiff and blue fingertips.

A sob escapes her lips. Chest heaving as eyes flickers across the white. Her sore arms shook as they supported her weight.

_ No. No. No _ . Where was her wand? She needed her wand. If she didn't have her wand...

There it was. Tip nestled in the snow, just a yard away from her. Outstretching a hand she reaches for it, but the pain in her side lurches again, reminding her of her mortal demise.

She gives in to her mind's covet and falls on her side and onto the snow, seeing her blotch of carmine taint pearl white like an ink blob on parchment.

If the piercing cold wasn't numbing her vocal cords, maybe she could scream, maybe she could yell a spell to save herself and make her wand  _ accio _ its way over to her. It was taunting her, sitting in the snow like the sword of Excalibur, waiting for her to pull it from its rock, and yet she could not reach for it, could not use it to save herself.

Time passes. Snow begins to cover her form as the blizzard rages on. She manages to place a shaking pale hand over her wound, even if it is pointless. Closes her eyes to avoid the tiny falling crystals.

Was that all life was going to be for Hermione? Running around at the grounds of a castle with magic, trying to defeat a wizard, to eventually die in a brumal storm?

Someone will find her, right? She hopes, but that too begins to fade.

Her limbs are stiff and numb, and she uses the last of her strength to clutch her cloak even tighter around her chest. Sore fingertips dig into the fabric.

Losing hope can do terrible things to a once hopeful mind, so instead, she breathes a fogged-out sigh and lays her head on the ground. Her ear burns at the touch of cold that is almost like fire against her.

It is almost peaceful, Hermione thinks, the loud silence of this blizzard. The sound of the wind is almost calming and it makes her forget for a moment that she stopped shivering a while ago and she can't feel her hands anymore.

She doesn't see much through her weak eyelids as her mind lulls her to sleep and forget the world and its turmoils and the snow. Snow, snow snow, fucking snow for miles on end.

***

_ Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. _

She hears it approaching. Footsteps. Another  _ person. _

She lifts an eyelid, turning her head the best she can to see a black cloak, light spilling out of a wand as they come closer.

She recognizes who it is instantly. The realization is a warm thought against her cold ones, and it sucks her back into reality, makes her remember who she is and why she was here in the first place.

He's a Death Eater. Making his way towards her. Someone who hates her and her blood.

As he draws nearer, his face comes into form. She can see the flakes of winter's tears nestled between his hair. The strain in his eyes as he squints through the howling wind and never-ending white snow. His boots crunch against the dense white, making his way over to her. He casts a spell and sends his wand to wave in the direction of her body, and the coat of snow is brushed off of her, exposing Hermione’s frozen and curled shape underneath her cloak.

She expects him to observe her for a moment, spit a few insults, and then walk away to let her suffer a slow delirious death in the snow, but he surprises her as Malfoy speaks out four words.

"What happened to you?"

No response. The wind continues it’s cry in the silence between them. 

His eyes flicker to her wand. Pockets it in his cloak. A breath fogs against the air and drifts off before he bends down to pick Hermione off the ground. Her wound screams its flutter of sharp pains and she lets out a small yelp. He didn't notice the wound, couldn't see the blood. Snow has covered over all of it. Has covered all of her.

Draco removes his hands in a rushed movement.

She can't see his face as he hovers over her, but she knows he's thinking.

_ Come on, Malfoy. Think. Please. _

And then the gears turn in his head. He removes her arm to reveal scarlet staining the white ground that casts shimmers of scarlet against her black cloak.

"Fuck, how did this- 

He stops, remember she can't speak.

Malfoy slowly dives forward to her, scooping his hand underneath her and beginning to pick her up off the ground.

She moans in pain, trying to jerk away from his arms and he pauses. "You can't stay here, Granger." 

_ Maybe I should die in this blizzard. _ She wants to tell him.  _ I've failed them. Let them think I died trying. I'm so tired. The war has gone on long enough. I'm tired. _

She does not moan or wince as he lifts her off the ground entirely and Malfoy has her in his arms. His wand does a swirling figure over her body and she isn't sure what spell it is, but the pain subsides, but it's not enough. As he begins to walk through the dense snow the pain swells again with each of his footsteps, enough for her hand to jerk out and cling to his coat for support. Maybe a little too hard. Her red fingertips turn white as they grip the fabric.


	2. Azurite

Warmth. Burning, blissful warmth.

Hermione will never take this feeling for granted again.

Her nose still feels funny with its tingling, and it feels marvelous to have her limbs well rested and her hair dry. She inhales. Eyes fluttering open as she moves a hand to her side. The outline of the knife spell is still there, but it feels sealed in as her fingertips run along the ridges of her mangled skin. How..?

She sits up despite the ache that spikes all over her. She's in a cabin, laying down in green and grey layers of blankets on a bed that has been tucked into the corner. There's a logged wall with a window in the middle with the curtains drawn. The ceiling is high, but there is no second floor. A candle piece hangs from the ceiling. The sounds of flickering and pops bring her attention to the right of her. There's a fireplace, with two couches and a coffee table in front of it, and beyond that is a small kitchen complete with a sink, a small table, and a fridge.

And sitting at the table is him. Draco Malfoy, turning to look at her and taking a breath in. "You're awake." 

She swallows, her throat is still weak. "Yes." She manages to say.

"There's tea on the nightstand. It should help your voice." 

She blinks at him, unsure what to think.

He...took her out of the snow. Brought her to this tiny cabin and...

A headache was forming.

Malfoy gets up from the table. Avoiding her gaze as he casts a spell on the fireplace. The flames swell and sparks fly. "That should last until I get back." He grabs his cloak before walking to the door but after a moment he pauses and turns around, meeting her gaze this time and she hopes her confusion isn't showing too much on her face. "Drink the tea. I promise it isn't poison."

"I.." She breathes out but the front door opens and closes, making her voice die out.

_ This is strange... _ Hermione thinks, grabbing the tea from the nightstand and taking a sip.

She lets the flavor dance across her tongue as she sips the contents. Hm. Surprisingly soothing. A hint of chamomile and magical herbs.

She sits on the bed, sipping tea and basking in the fire and blankets, saying a silent thank you to Merlin for the warmth - and something Hermione thought she'd never hear herself say - but for Draco Malfoy too.

***

When she awakes again there is food on her nightstand. It's dark now but the fire is still casting shadows across the cabin. Casting shadows on the figure that sleeps on the couch, eyes closed with exhaustion.

She never thought of him like this. Someone who could care and make sure she drank tea and had food. Was this just to keep her alive, so that he could eventually take her to Voldemort? That had to be it.

She grabs the plate, stabbing her fork into the food and eating in angry, rushed bites. It was delicious, but this was not kindness. She must remind herself he is still a Death Eater and she is a member of the Order with a mission.

The scratching and clinks of her fork against her plate stir Malfoy awake from his slumber.

He sits up, running his hands over his face and smoothing out the tiredness.

"When." She snaps, putting the plate and fork back on the nightstand and looking over at him.

He removes his hands. "What?" 

"When, as in when are you taking me to  _ him _ ." 

His eyes search hers, and then they soften in his realization. "Right. You think I'm going to turn you in for the Dark L- Voldemort." he corrects, gaze shifting towards the wall at his mistake.

She chews the inside of her lip, bringing her knees to her chest under the blankets.

"I'm not turning you in."

"That's probably a lie. Voldemort would love to get his hands on me. Know all my Order secrets." She motions out from the bed, but her limbs wobble and she falls to the ground on her hands. "Fuck," she breathes out. Great. 

Malfoy rushes over to her, helping her up off the ground. He sits her back on the bed.

Shame and embarrassment rush through her and she blinks away the beginning of tears.

"You should stay here and regain your energy, you'll be able to do whatever it was you're doing for the Order with more strength." 

"And you don't want to know what I'm doing?" The look across his face one of tiredness matched with disappointment across his gaunt features.

"No." Is all he says before walking towards the door and grabbing his cloak before slipping out into the cold.

***

The next morning, she is awoken by the commotion of running water and silverware moving. He's back from wherever he went off to in the night.

She can't move much without the soreness straining her weak muscles, but she manages to tilt her head to see where the commotion of plates and running water was coming from.

Draco stands over the sink, plopping plates into it. They begin to clean themselves with soap and water.

He grabs a mug and turns around, making his way over to her and she sees the suit he wears. It's almost military-like, and she wonders when he became the bully at school to an image of a military officer offering her a mug of tea.

"I have more pain-numbing potions if you need them." She heaves a great breath and sits up against the headboard, taking the mug from him and bringing the warm drink to her mouth.

"Do you need another warming charm?" He asks.

She sits her mug back onto the nightstand and grabs her wand. "I think I'll be okay, I've got my wand in case you've forgotten." 

"Right." 

The silence that seems to follow after their words is louder than ever and she says something just to break the tension between them. "I'm going to rest for a bit." 

He blinks out of his thoughts, rising from the chair. "I have to go out anyway." And he doesn't give her a final glance before grabbing his coat and heading out of the cabin. A gust of wind follows and permeates the warmth of the cabin and she shudders at the cold.


	3. Garnet

Two weeks have passed since Hermione arrived at the cabin. It had been a monotonous succession of waking up with him already gone, leaving her to drink the tea he made her and practice spells with her wand. On other days she had read from the small collection of books underneath the coffee table. Then as nightfall came he would return and sit at the kitchen table with a fire-whiskey, then move over to the couch until he fell asleep.

Each she trusted him to return by nightfall. Each day she knew they would not speak and barely acknowledge the other. The only thing that made her sure he wasn't forgetting her presence was the tea. Malfoy never forgot her morning tea.

Hermione has questions of course, like where he runs off to in this winter maze, or why he tolerates her, but she lets those thoughts drift away. Each night just being thankful she has this solace, this place to rest and heal.

And as the days went on, slowly her body was getting stronger. She could walk while managing the soreness, and the pain in her abdomen had subsided considerably. Though Hermione still doesn't feel quite ready to go back out in the forest and complete her mission.

Today, however, she can't laze around and sip tea. Today she remembers her mission and how she has to go back to them and tell them she failed. Tell Harry, Ron, and everyone else that she couldn't complete the mission. It makes her bitter towards herself, towards this whole fucking cabin and this odd situation she found herself in.

Nightfall arrives just as Malfoy returns like he always does. Like clockwork. Closes the door and then walks to the fridge, pulling out leftovers and warming them before he sits down at the table.

She's on the couch now, curled up in a blanket, eyes on the book but her mind is focused on him. Two weeks and silence between them. Two weeks without questions being answered. She decides to ask the most prominent one that had been eating away at her.

"Why didn't you let me die?" She looks up from the book.

He doesn't look to the side at her, but his chewing slows before he speaks. "You were about to die and needed help. Isn't that enough reason?"

Hermione lowers the book. "No, it isn't. I don't understand why you would save someone...like me." Malfoy meets her gaze this time, setting his fork down. "And what part of yourself are you talking about? Your blood?" 

Hermione nods. "Yes, Malfoy, my  _ blood _ . I would think that you would leave me out there, think to yourself 'well there's another Mudblood gone! O _ h well! _ " She doesn't realize the anger that seeps out at the last of her words.

Malfoy squints at her as if Hermione's something he doesn't understand. Like she just presented him with a new puzzle piece that doesn't fit into the whole picture.

"Are you..." he looks as though he can't even fathom the thought.  _ "mad that I saved you?" _

_ Am I? _ She thinks.

Malfoy scoffs, shaking his head and turning to look at his food again. "You wanted to die out there..." he says but it sounds mostly to himself.

_ No. Not mad. _ She concludes. Just confused and frustrated.

She looks to the fire, avoiding his gaze, watching the crackling of the flames as it puffs out sparks and emits a small crackle of sound. "I'm not mad that you saved me, I just..." Hermione tugs the blanket closer over her chest, feeling the cold stare of his gaze. "I can't go back to the Order." 

he huffs, and the silence before his words makes her uneasy.

"I can't go back telling them that I failed."

"Failed.” He deadpans.

"Yes, failed." She looks at him again. "I was sent alone because they deemed me capable enough of finding what I needed, and obviously I didn't meet that." She can see the hesitation in his features, the slight shift of his position on the chair, wanting to ask her what her mission was, or maybe something else but he decides against it.

Instead, he says, "You always did seem scared of failure. Guess I was right."

She doesn't say anything to that. Hermione knows it's true. Maybe if she never admitted it, but she hated failing. She slumps back into the chair again, picking her book back up.

He laughs a small and sad chuckle.

Hermione looks up from her book, brows furrowed. "What?"

"You're cause of death being a blizzard and a knife spell? If anything Granger, your cause of death would be more heroic. More  _ Gryffindor-esc _ . It's probably going to be on the battlefield riding bloody hippogriffs or stroking out from seeing anything other than an Outstanding on a Hogwarts paper."

She can't help but give a light chortle. "I think you've had a bit too much fire-whiskey tonight." Hermione looks down at her book, but in the corner of her eye, she swears she can see Malfoy smirk.

***

Another week passes, and Hermione finds that she likes sitting by the edge of the frozen lake by the cabin. Properly bundled in a cloak and warming charm, just watching the sun glitter across the ice. It reminds her of days at Hogwarts. It seems so long ago now. Thinking of Hogwarts makes her think of Harry and Ron.

She had told them that it was going to be many weeks searching for what could aid them, so it made sense why they hadn't already come looking for her. She lavishes in the idea that her boys are content and think she is running across this forest, searching for the item.

A deer skits across the edge of the lake before darting into the forest. Its two fawns run across after their mother.

The sight makes Hermione smile, but it reminds her of her loneliness.

She stays here with Malfoy in this cabin because leaving meant going back to the Order. Meant trying to find the item again. Her body was healed, but her mind wasn't. Just a few more days of peace. Wasn't she allowed that?

Hermione pulls out her wand, making snowflakes form into deer. They hop in the air, going higher and higher into the sky.

***

A few hours pass and she makes her way back inside. Unprepared for the sight before her.

Malfoy is sprawled out onto the kitchen floor, wheezing and coughing.

_ "Draco!" _ She runs over to him and kneels over him. "What-How?" 

He doesn't say anything, just tries to steady his shaking breaths.

It dawns on her. "You've been crucio'd." It was bad; Draco must have done something horrible in the eyes of Voldemort to be hurt to this extent. One more round of this unforgivable curse and he would surely be dead. It was a surprise he had even made it back to the cabin at all in his condition.

She picks herself up from the ground and runs to the cabinets. Opening them one by one, searching for anything to help.

_ Cereal. Canned beans and fruit. Spices. No. no. no fuck.... wait. yes! _

She plucks the potion from the cabinet and runs back over to him. Uncorks the bottle and brings it to his lips, holding his head and chest up as she does so.

By the third sip, his body calms to small tremors, and his face has a sheen of sweat on it.

Hermione continues to hold him up, muttering spells to ease the pain in his muscles as she had learned from healers. " _ It's okay.." _ She whispers in between her incantations.  _ "It's okay." _

Draco’s breathing slows to its normal rate, and he leans himself against her chest, grasping her hand with his as Hermione's other hand continues its spell of healing.

"I'm just so tired. So fucking tired of all of it." He mumbles, his eyes fluttering to a close.

"I know." She says, pulling her wand away. Just lets him lay there as she holds him. "I am too." She whispers, tears pricking in her eyes. She tries hard to blink them away, but they fall regardless of her cheeks.

***

Credence had started between them now. They understood each other, or Hermione felt she understood him. Saving each other can do things like that, Hermione supposes.

When he was home they discussed the books on the nightstand. Heated debates that eventually sent them both either yelling or laughing. She didn't think he could be so enjoyable to talk to.

"It's just unfinished." She says as they discuss a book that had - in Hermione's opinion - a sad ending. "Unfinished?" Draco sits on the couch across from her.

"Yes. Unfinished. We don't find out what happens to them, at least not really. It's only  _ implied  _ that they die.”

"Well if the purpose is to imply that they died then they did."

"Yes that's true, but just think about it. Nothing says they died. The whole point of the story is that it ends. They are born to die - what they have is born to die - leaving the ending with an implied death just doesn't seem complete to me it just seems like..." she looks around aimlessly. "Merlin, what's the word?"

His eyes narrow. "Torpid? Inadequate writing?" 

"Yes, inadequate!" She snaps her fingers paired with a laugh. "Don't you agree?" 

Draco shrugs. "I think it's fitting." 

She blinks. "Fitting?" 

“Yes. Fitting. That's life, isn't it? Not knowing everything for sure. Having crescendos and decrescendos, highs and lows, build up that leads to nothing. Leaving the end to the reader makes sense to me. Not everything gets a happy ending. It's unrealistic, Granger." 

Hermione scoffs, but it quickly turns into a frown, and silence falls between them for a moment. 

They spend the rest of the night talking about other books until late in the morning, both of them falling asleep on the couch in a heap of books and scribbled on parchment.

***

The following morning, she awakes to find Draco sitting at the kitchen table again. The laughter and smiles are swept away from his face. He looks tired again. Angry. It feels like she lost something as she looks at him.

notices she's awake and swallows, eyes flickering across the cabin. "You can't trust me," Draco says in a rushed tone. She doesn't know why, but it pierces her soul just a bit to hear it.

Hermione trusted him when he carried her through miles of snow and a magical blizzard.

She trusts him to bring her tea every morning and for him to return by nightfall.

"I know that you're a Death Eater," He looks towards the fire as Hermione looks at him. "But I trusted you enough to come back for me each day while I get better. You trust me not to kill you and for you not to kill me. So why shouldn't I trust you? If you truly hate me and my blood you wouldn't have saved me. You'd have avada'd me in my sleep by now."

His jaw shifts and his gaze darkens as his eyes meet hers in a sudden flicker. "You can't trust me because one day I'll disappoint you. One day I won't come back. I'll die on a mission, or maybe the Dark Lord finally kills me. He could read my mind, find that you're here, and then what?" 

She chills at the words 'Dark Lord', but she ignores it. “I think you need someone on your side, or at least someone who-

He jerks up from the chair, walking a few steps away, his back to her. "I have people on my side." 

"Really, the Death Eaters? That's the people on your side?" Though her limbs were weak and her head was still pounding, she picked herself up off the chair. "Tell me Draco, is it your blood prejudice or your role as a Death Eater that saved a mudblood like me? Nursed me back to health-

"You don't know a thing!" he said, running a hand through his hair.

"I do! You're not one of them! I refuse that! You are a good man deep down and I see that now! I saw it from the moment you saved me in that snow!" He swirls to face her now, running up to her and getting so close she can smell the mint that is his toothpaste and the dark oak and green smell of his clothes. "I've killed people Granger! Sent countless people to be  _ crucio _ 'd! Do you think I'm so  _ righteous? _ A good man? What, cause we talk about books here?" He grabs the sides of her face, and the warmth of his hands against her cold skin makes the blanket drop down by her feet. Her heart thrums against her chest and she can't look anywhere except his grey eyes and feel the pull of his magic on her.

She's thrust into a memory before she can even protest.

Bodies, death, spells flying. Smoke everywhere. Voldemort, the dark mark. It all blurs into one. She hears the screams of people, some of them Order members.  _ Crucio. Crucio. Crucio. _ Spirals of smoke and fire burning. 

She yanks herself out of his mind. They pull away from each other, panting.

"I get it, but you're forgetting I can feel what you feel as well."

And it's all she says as she walks away back over to the bed as he stands there by the couches fuming.

Because even in these memories she felt the guilt clawing at him. Felt the walls he creates breaking apart. The ache was so deep in Draco's chest that Hermione could feel it made him want to vomit, cry, and scream all at once.


	4. Citrine

_ Dear Harry, _

_ I know it's been a long time, and I'm sorry for this. I really am, but my mission is not done. I'm okay so don't go looking for me. I'll be back soon and I’ll explain everything, but just promise me to keep fighting. Keep going. _

_ All my love, _

_ Hermione _

A teardrop falls onto her parchment, blotting the 'M' in her name. Her chest aches again at the thought of Harry and Ron.

She has been waiting to ask Draco if he had an owl, but it never came up in conversation. It had been a few days since their fight and it was leaving things unsteady between them.

Hermione knew she wasn't a prisoner. She could easily walk out and run off into the snow and continue with her mission somehow or run back to the Order, but it didn't seem right. Something kept her here.  _ Someone...? _

Muffled footsteps walk up onto the porch before the door opens and Draco steps in. He brushes snow off his hair before peeling off his coat.

"It's freezing in here." He walks over to the fireplace. Hermione frowns, grabbing her wand and casting a warming charm over herself again. 

"Haven't noticed." He frowns as he watches her put another warming charm over herself.

She rolls her eyes and reaches out her wand, casting a warming charm over him. He shudders, but the flecks of snow on his coat melt away and his cheeks return with color.

Draco walks to the fridge, grabs a fire-whiskey, then sits at the table, contemplating things as he stares out the small window.

"Do you have an owl?" She asks as Draco closes the fridge. 

"An owl?" 

“Yes. I would like to send a letter to Harry."

"I don't."

"Oh.." She folds her parchment. Draco sees it in her hand but doesn't say anything as he looks back out the window again.

"You don't have to stay here. Your wound is healed." 

And there it was, the thing she had been avoiding asking herself as much as Draco. 

"I know. I have to leave anyway. Eventually."

Hermione says nothing else on the matter. That was that.

***

"Come on!" She calls out, seeing Draco apparate in front of the cabin, fresh from the horrors of his Death Eater duties and his in black cloak.

"What?" Draco watches her figure bound up to him.

"Just follow me! I don't think you've ever been to the lake!"

"And why should I care about the lake?" He trudges after her as Hermione grabs his hand and drags them downhill.

It's sunny. The snow glimmers at the light, like a million tiny stars have landed in the crevices of the white bank.

They make it down the hill and to the lake's edge. "I usually sit here an-

Malfoy's figure disappears from her sight. She looks down and finds him on the ground. He slipped on the ice.

And to her surprise, he laughs. A genuine one as he lays here in the snow. Breath puffing out into the air.

His laugh is medicinal almost. It's a beautiful thing. She can't help but laugh along with him. Both of their laughs bubbling out into the air in echoes against the looming pine trees and the vastness of the lake. Hermione feels tears in her eyes. She grabs his hands to pick him up off the ground but in their movement, she wobbles on the ice, and the next thing she knows she's beside him on the ground. Another wave of laughter and smiles. Red cheeks and air puffing out.

Slipping on ice. It reminds her of the time she slipped on ice with Harry and Ron in their third year. Granted it wasn't as much fun as it was now. She had scraped her hands then and yelled profusely at Ron for letting her slip the way she did. She had cried after. This time it was all in good fun. It makes her feel like a kid again; like a third year. 

She casts another warming charm over them. Her cheeks hurt from smiling. When was the last time she smiled this much? She never expected it to be with Draco Malfoy.

A flock of birds flap across the sky, tweeting as they fly.

They sit in silence, watching the black go across the blue. Somewhere deep in Hermione, she understands this must be true peace. That this moment is timeless. This is theirs, no one else's. The war took the last of their school years and their sanity but they have this. In their corner of time and space and nestled in between the moments of their lives, they have this. 

But this moment is futile, their time together is all in vain, and Hermione knows Draco knows this as they share a look of knowing. One of understanding. A look that says ' _ I don't want to let you go' _ . But Hermione knows she must let him go. Knows she has to leave and finish this war. They were like chess pieces running off the board. They have to go back and finish the game.

Hermione reaches for Draco’s hand, and he does not coil away from it but instead tightens his grip.


	5. Ruby

Days pass. They walk across the forest. Sometimes in silence. As the days passed on, Hermione knew time was running out. The chess clock was ticking, and it had gone past ninety minutes now. Had been for a while.

They walk back into the cabin. Hermione reignites the fire and lights the candles with her wand. She peels off her coat, Draco doing the same.

Draco knows their time is running short too. He stopped sleeping on the couch but instead on the bed with Hermione curled in his arms. It wasn't shocking or strange. It felt right. It was comforting. Normal. Like they should've done it sooner.

She's about to ask him a question about potions but Draco moves closer to her.

"Don't leave. Not yet." 

She's shocked at this though. He's not one for confrontation, and this verbal vulnerability was something she never expected from the Slytherin.

She nods, stepping closer to him. "Not yet.”

He cups her cheeks and kisses her. Warm and sweet and it's a relief. It's a beautiful, blissful thing to be kissing Draco Malfoy.

_ "Don't leave, Hermione." _ He says, beginning to pepper kisses on her neck, pushing her against the wall between the fireplace and their bed.

Her chest is burning with heat, and she runs a hand through his blond hair, chilled at each breath against her skin. There is a tug at her naval that is alighting her bones and her skin.

"Don't leave." He says again, running his hand across her hips and up her back. She brings his face up to her own before pressing their lips together.

"I won't," She pulls back hastily, their foreheads connected as their bodies remain tangled. She knows that she shouldn't say this, but she says it anyway, because loneliness is a disease, and it eats at your soul, your sanity before you are a desolate shell of who you once were, and there is a cure, and maybe it simply another person's presence, and it just happened to be him, or maybe it is the way he holds her through the howling wind or the way she loves the challenge that sparked between each other's words, but when she is with him loneliness becomes a concept she does not remember or feels.

Draco’s fingers run through her hair now as her own run around his back. his leg presses into her and they both groan at the sensation. 

_ "I won't, I won't, I won't." _ She whispers it against him like a mantra, like a spell. A desperate attempt to convince herself she won't leave,  _ can't _ leave when deep down she knows she must.

***

Their story felt like it was only just beginning. Only the first chapters of something wonderful they could have. Does have, she thinks. What they shared in this cabin, even if brief, was real.

They will march back to the chessboard. Line up and fight as though their time in these brumal months never existed. She couldn't make him join the Order, despite knowing who he is and what he believes deep down, because who is she to have that right? It was only a few weeks. Loneliness had eaten away at her, and he was there.

Hermione uncurls from underneath his arms. She kisses his cheek and runs a hand over Draco’s hair one more time as he continues his slumber. Candle light flickering across his tranquil features.

She leaves a note on the coffee table. Maybe an ode to all those weeks ago when they read the story about implied deaths and endings.

Hermione tells herself Draco knows this would happen. It's easier this way. Slipping out in the night. They'll just be a fleeting memory to each other. Just something that happened. In the past. Nothing more. 

Hermione gives a final look around the room. She takes it all in. Noticing the books with their annotations tucked in between its yellowing pages sitting on the coffee table. The kitchen table of their favorite snacks. The collection of potions Hermione brewed, prepared for all the times he might come home crucio'd and she would have to patch him up again and lull him to sleep.

Blinking back tears, Hermione Granger leaves the cabin with Draco Malfoy inside. Stepping out into the melting snow and back to that chessboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious, the chapter titles are all named after crystals that are said to help in winter. What can I say? I love crystals. Here is what their correspondences are. Yes this is just from someone online but shhh
> 
> Selenite - reminds us of the presence of light, even in the dark.
> 
> Garnet - Deep, dark, red garnet sets a perfect tone for the winter season. It is a stone of love, trust, and devotion
> 
> Ruby - Give fiery ruby a try to keep you warm during the cold season and to keep your outlook on love and life glowing
> 
> Azurite - Use azurite to help boost your efforts during your quieter winter evenings - new hobby, start something new
> 
> Citrine - Warm, sunny citrine is a perfect stone for winter: it can provide a much-needed sunny boost, when daylight hours are at a minimum
> 
> Also- this oneshot came about when I was studying and I stumbled upon [this](https://youtu.be/x7BCa9Y8Of8) video. I immediately whipped out a blank doc and started writing what you just read.   
> Also I am fully aware how cheesy that whole unfinished story conversations was. This was in part a writing practice as much as it was getting more comfortable writing these characters that I love.   
> Also this was my first time doing present tense and honestly it was a lot of fun. A bit more freeing for me personally than in past tense.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Don't forget those kudos if you liked it!
> 
> \- Lyra_moon22


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